


From The Shadows

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Guilt, Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sequel, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4629750/chapters/10556217">Death In Waiting</a>. Athos and Porthos are gradually getting used to life together, but a face from the past throws everything into doubt.</p><p>Written for the prompt "What do the boys do when they leave for London? Does Porthos really cope knowing that Athos has a bit of a dark side?" (May not make a lot of sense if you haven't read Death In Waiting first, as this is a direct continuation.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Shadows

The weather worsened as they approached London, but nothing could dampen Porthos' spirits. He was the proud new owner of the most opulent motor car he'd ever laid eyes on, but more than that he had Athos sitting next to him in the passenger seat, and after the events of the last few days that seemed a miracle in itself. 

"Should we look for a hotel?" Porthos asked as they drove through the outskirts of the city. They'd hardly touched on the specifics yet, of what they were going to do. For the first hours of the drive it had been enough just to be together, and to see a future stretching out ahead of them. 

"No." To Porthos' surprise, Athos shook his head. "Make for Bloomsbury, can you?" 

Porthos did as he was instructed, finding he slipped easily back into driving through the city as if he'd never been away. Once they reached Russell Square, Athos sat up a little and started issuing a series of directions that lead them through various back streets and finally in at the entrance to a secluded and well-kept row of converted mews cottages.

"You can leave the car under there," Athos told him, gesturing to where the upper storey of a building that backed onto the row created a protective overhang. "It'll be quite safe."

"Where are we?" Porthos asked curiously, following Athos' lead and hauling his bags out of the car. Wherever they were, it seemed they were staying.

"You'll see in a minute," was all Athos would say, and he lead Porthos to a cottage about halfway down, where he opened the door with a key he drew from his pocket.

Inside, they found themselves in a furnished room that was swathed in dust sheets. The downstairs was all one room, with a kitchen area and dining table at the front looking out onto the street, and a fireplace and what Porthos assumed were two armchairs under their covers at the rear. A wooden staircase curved up to what was presumably a bedroom.

"Where are we?" Porthos asked again. "What is this place?"

Athos looked a little uncomfortable. "I own it." 

"Own it?" Porthos' eyebrows went up. "Must have set you back a bit. Guess the war was quite lucrative, eh?" 

Athos looked more on edge than ever, and Porthos could have bitten his tongue off. "Sorry, I didn't mean - I just meant - well it's not like I could afford a place of my own."

"I inherited a little," Athos said stiffly. "And I didn't spend anything much while I was at the manor."

"Have you not been back here since?" Porthos asked, keen to move the conversation on from how much money Athos might or might not have made from assassinating people.

"I came down every now and then, when I had a weekend off," Athos said. "Just to check the place was secure. Aramis was desperate to know where I was disappearing off to," he added, conceding a slight smile. "I think he must have thought I was off to a brothel or something."

Porthos gave a bark of laughter. "Why didn't you just tell him?"

Athos hesitated. "I imagined when I finally left the manor, I would be on the run. It suited me to have no one know about this place."

Porthos studied him more sombrely. "Thought you'd pretty much concluded they'd hang you?" he ventured.

"Well, yes. But I wasn't going to just give myself up." Athos sighed. "It appears that the habit of survival is a hard one to break," he said softly.

Porthos came over and put his arms around him. "Let's change the subject," he said. "We're free, and that's that. Nobody's coming after us. No more talk of death."

"We'll be okay here, won't we?" Athos asked a little anxiously. "Would you rather go to a hotel?"

"No, don't be daft." Porthos shook his head firmly. "This is ideal. Much more discreet. Just like you," he grinned. "Come on, show me the rest. Bedroom upstairs, presumably?"

"Yes, and a small bathroom." Athos relaxed a little in Porthos' arms, and Porthos hugged him close.

"Well, it was a long drive. How about you start by giving me the guided tour of the bed, and everything else we can worry about later?" 

\--

Porthos lay watching the rain running down the windowpane as the daylight faded around them. Athos lay asleep next to him - despite the fact Porthos had done all the driving it had been Athos who seemed utterly drained by the day's events. They'd made up the bed and climbed in together, but done little more than kiss.

Porthos resisted the temptation to reach out and smooth back Athos' hair from his face, knowing it would likely wake him. He was starting to realise for the first time the amount of stress Athos had been under, and how wretched he must have felt fleeing the manor that morning. How exhausted he must be, both mentally and emotionally.

It occurred to Porthos now that if he'd missed Athos at the station - if he'd been even a minute later - that Athos would likely still have come here - would even now probably have been asleep in this same bed, but alone, and with Porthos not knowing where to find him. It made his heart ache and he wriggled further down under the covers, watching the rise and fall of Athos' slow breathing.

Whatever else happened, he thought sleepily, they'd done right. This, was right. To be together. Everything else they could work out.

When Athos woke up it was full dark, and Porthos discovered with a certain amount of glee that the cottage was fitted with electric lights. As they had no food in they ventured out to find somewhere to eat, and Porthos was glad to see some of Athos' quiet good humour returning once they'd dined. 

Returning home well fed and having shared a bottle of wine, they finally crawled back into the rumpled bedclothes, and held each other close in the darkness. 

Porthos fell asleep with Athos in his arms, and thought to himself that he might be happier than he'd ever been in his life.

\--

The next few days felt pleasantly domestic, as they cleaned and aired the cottage, stocked up the food cupboards and generally settled into life in the city. They would both need to find work eventually, but for now could afford a few days of fallow time to themselves.

After months living at the remote manor Porthos was excited to be back in the buzz of London, but he couldn't help noticing Athos remained rather subdued. He'd never been the loudest or most voluble of men, but he was being remarkably quiet even by his standards.

Porthos hoped he'd snap out of it after a few days and cheer up a little, but when Athos remained preoccupied and uncommunicative he knew he had to take the bull by the horns and find out what was wrong.

He broached it one morning when they were getting dressed. Athos was sitting on the side of the bed, staring blankly out of the window as he put on his tie, hands moving mechanically without really paying attention to what he was doing. Porthos sidled up and sat down next to him, fighting off an attack of nerves. He had to know what was wrong, even if he didn't like the answer.

"Athos? You okay?" he asked softly. 

Athos looked round at him and blinked in apparent surprise, as if Porthos had disturbed him from some deep reverie. "Yes, of course," he said, frowning slightly. "Shouldn't I be?"

Porthos frowned back at him. "It's just - you don't look okay. You look like something's bothering you, and you have done for days."

"Oh." Athos looked away, staring at the floorboards. "It's nothing. Really."

"Well that's me convinced," Porthos said sarcastically, and Athos winced, but said nothing.

"What's wrong Athos?" Porthos persisted more gently. "Is it me?"

Athos looked up quickly, and to Porthos' deep relief immediately shook his head. 

"No. No, of course not. Don't ever think that. It's - nothing you need to worry about."

Giving a quiet sigh of thanks that at least Athos apparently wasn't regretting their relationship, Porthos reached over and took his hand. 

"I don't work for you any more Athos. We're a partnership now. That's how this works. If something's worrying you, I want to know. I want to help. I love you."

Athos looked away again. "How can you?" he breathed.

Porthos stared at him in shock. "What do you mean?"

"After what I did?" Athos pulled his hand out of Porthos' grasp and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. "I always thought of myself as an honest man," he continued bleakly. "But I killed two innocent people, in cold blood. What does that make me?"

"They were hardly innocent," Porthos argued, despite the fact he'd once accused Athos of exactly that, and was now bitterly wishing he hadn't.

"Guilty by omission, perhaps, in Louis' case," Athos said. "Rochefort died purely to secure my own freedom. How do I justify that?"

Porthos shifted uncomfortably. "Well, like you say, no one's likely to miss him," he offered. 

"That shouldn't be the criteria for someone's survival," Athos muttered.

"You're a good man, Athos," said Porthos quietly. "I genuinely believe that. Trying to convince yourself otherwise does nobody any good."

"Would you still love me if you thought I wasn't?" Athos asked morbidly.

"Yes. I would," said Porthos firmly, and Athos looked up at him in slight surprise. "I love you Athos. I love _you_ , the person you are. Good, bad or indifferent, I don't care. I've made my choice. My life - is better with you in it. And yeah, so maybe you made a dodgy decision, you were grief-stricken, you weren't thinking right. And yes, now you have to live with the consequences of that. But don't let it destroy you Athos. Please."

Athos stared at him for a long moment, and Porthos held his gaze, trying to convey by his eyes alone whatever combination of understanding and forgiveness Athos needed.

"You were right," Athos said softly after a while. "When you said I thought they'd hang me. I suppose - I suppose I never thought that I'd have to live with it, afterwards."

Porthos shifted closer and put his arm around Athos' shoulders, relieved when after a second's hesitation Athos leaned against him.

"You're still a good man Athos," Porthos repeated, kissing him on the side of the head. "Don't lose sight of that."

"How can you sound so sure?" Athos asked wearily.

"Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be worrying about it," Porthos pointed out. "You wouldn't have given it another thought. And for the record, yes, I would still love you if that was the case. And maybe that makes me a bad person, but I don't care. Call me selfish, but all I want is you."

Athos gave a quiet sigh, and Porthos hugged him close. "What's done is done, neither of us can change that. What matters now is what we do with the future," Porthos murmured. "Best thing we can do, is make it count. I can't magic away your guilt, but I love you, Athos. I always will. No matter what."

Athos still made no reply, but he lifted his head and kissed Porthos on the mouth. Porthos kissed him back, and when rather than pulling away as he'd feared Athos responded in kind, Porthos deepened it into something altogether warmer and more passionate.

The fuck that followed, their first in this bed, was cathartic and perhaps long overdue. Afterwards, as they got dressed all over again, Porthos caught Athos round the waist and peppered the back of his neck with kisses until Athos started laughing in surrender. 

Porthos followed him down to breakfast with a song in his heart. 

\--

Athos stood in the doorway to the kitchen, for the moment not drawing attention to himself but just watching unobtrusively. It felt extremely odd to be back at the manor; despite the fact it had only been two and a half weeks since they left, it somehow felt more like years. 

He'd have preferred not to return at all, but Porthos had stubbornly and repeatedly reminded him of his promise to Constance until he'd given in. And now, having left London at a stupidly early time for the long drive, he was here watching Constance sitting at the table while Fleur fussed over her headdress.

It must have been some sixth sense that made Constance look up, Athos was sure he hadn't made a sound. For a second she stared at him with an expression of comical surprise, then gave a little scream.

"Athos!" 

Heedless of the fact she was trailing hairpins or might crush her wedding dress, Constance hurled herself into Athos' arms, making him stagger back a step with a laugh and hug her in return.

"Hello."

"I was afraid you weren't coming," Constance scolded, dragging him into the kitchen. 

"I promised didn't I?" Athos murmured shiftily, nodding to Fleur who gave him a shy wave, a flash of a smile, and then fled the room muttering something about fetching Constance's coat.

"Mmmn." Constance sat down again and Athos picked up the mirror that was lying on the table, angling it to allow her to finish fixing the veil over her hair. When she was done, Constance sat back and gave a troubled sigh. Athos took the seat next to her and cocked his head.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes. I suppose so. Just nerves," Constance admitted with an embarrassed smile. "It's a big step."

"Well, you don't have to marry him," Athos pointed out. Constance spluttered with laughter.

"Yes I do." She laid a hand over her stomach and looked at him meaningfully. Athos shrugged. 

"Move to London, tell people you're a widow. Technically you are, anyway. No one'd know the difference. There's always a way."

Constance was smiling now. "I love d'Artagnan," she pointed out.

"Well, that's alright then."

Constance's smile widened. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Reminding me I'm doing the right thing." She patted his hand. "I'm glad you're here. You make me brave." Constance rubbed the slight curve of her belly self-consciously. "I'm scared everyone will be looking at me."

"Of course everyone will be looking at you, you're the bride," Athos retorted. 

"You know what I mean. They'll be judging me." 

Athos leaned over and tipped Constance's bowed face up to look into her eyes. 

"Hold your head up. Be proud," he said softly. "Your friends don't mind, and the rest don't matter."

Suddenly tearful, Constance gave him a watery smile and had to blink rapidly to maintain her composure. 

"How's Porthos?" she asked brightly, changing the subject.

"He's well," Athos said, a little awkwardly. "He's here in fact, he went to find Aramis." 

Constance smiled at his obvious embarrassment. "And everything's going well for you both?"

Athos nodded jerkily. "Yes. Thank you." 

"Good. I'm glad."

Athos risked a look up and relaxed slightly as he took in the fact that Constance meant it. "You really don't mind," he said wonderingly. 

"Of course not. Why should I?"

Athos gave a short laugh. "Would you like a list?"

Constance tutted. "You fought for me Athos, and for d'Artagnan, when you didn't have to. You've never once made me feel bad for my decisions, when you could have. Why should I do any different?" She laughed quietly. "What were you telling me just now, about holding my head up?"

Athos gave her a shy smile. "Thank you." He took a steadying breath, then got to his feet and held out a hand. "Come on trouble. Sooner we get you married off the better."

When Fleur came back into the room a few seconds later holding a pair of coats, it was to find Athos fending off a determined effort by Constance to spank him with a hairbrush.

\--

Porthos drove them to the church in the car that Lady Anne had gifted to him, feeling rather embarrassed that this meant she and Aramis had had to go ahead in a taxi. With Fleur in the passenger seat, Constance sat in the back with Athos, a death grip on his hand. 

As they waited a moment for Porthos and Fleur to go ahead into the church and find their places, Athos leaned over and whispered that she needn't worry about the gossips because with Aramis and Anne in attendance they'd have a far bigger scandal to talk about than whether her waistline was slightly fuller than it should have been.

Grateful and spluttering with guilty laughter, Constance composed her face just in time as they stepped through the porch and into the nave. 

At the front of the church Porthos looked round as the organ sounded and watched Athos and Constance make their way slowly down the aisle. Constance looked beautiful but he had eyes only for Athos, and felt a twinge of sadness that they could never be joined in the same way. 

Having deposited Constance safely at the altar in the care of her husband-to-be, Athos slipped into the pew next to Porthos and gave him a quick smile. Porthos smiled back at him, wishing he risked reaching out to take Athos' hand, however briefly, but knowing it was too dangerous in public. He contented himself with the fact of his proximity, and dragged his attention back to the ceremony.

Afterwards Constance and d'Artagnan posed on the steps of the church for a formal picture, the photographer having been arranged by Lady Anne as a wedding gift. Standing at the back of the assembled crowd watching the proceedings, Porthos was surprised to feel Athos' fingers brush across the back of his hand and looked round at him, brimming with emotion.

Athos did a double take, then smiled at him. "Are you crying?" he asked under his breath, sounding amused.

"No." Porthos hurriedly wiped his eyes. "Cold wind, that's all."

"Softy."

"Just because you haven't got a romantic bone in your body," Porthos muttered darkly. 

Athos smirked, turning back to watch the happy couple, but for a second he squeezed Porthos' hand, and it was enough to make Porthos start sniffing all over again.

\--

They stayed at the manor that night, Aramis having insisted they were welcome. To Athos' deep embarrassment they were shown to one of the guest bedrooms. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, had half-imagined them sleeping in their old quarters.

"I assumed you'd want to share, I hope that wasn't too presumptuous?" Aramis murmured discreetly, and Athos went scarlet.

"Thank you, yes," Porthos said quickly, before Athos could say anything. 

"You'll join us for breakfast I hope?" Aramis added. "Goodnight." He left them alone, and Porthos grinned.

"Somebody's got used to life as lord of the manor very quickly."

"More than I could," Athos admitted, looking round at the luxuriously furnished room as they undressed. "I feel like I should be polishing the silver or something."

"I've got something you can polish if you like," Porthos grinned. He took hold of Athos' hand and guided it under his shirt.

Athos snorted as the warm weight of Porthos' half-hard cock settled across his palm. To Porthos' gratified surprise he didn't pull away but closed his hand around him and started stroking.

Porthos gave a quiet groan of pleasure. "I do like your butlering technique."

"I'd like to point out that wasn't what got me the job," Athos smiled, guiding him across to the bed. 

"How _did_ you get the job?" Porthos asked, flopping onto his back and spreading his legs hopefully. "I mean you didn't exactly have time for butler school, did you?"

Athos shrugged. "A falsified reference and the fact they were desperate," he said, straddling Porthos' thighs. "Two previous butlers had apparently lasted less than a month each. I think they were just glad I was willing to stay. And I can turn my hand to most things," he added with a smirk, suiting his actions to his words, and after that the conversation lapsed for some considerable time.

\--

Back in London, they settled down to getting used to life together. Porthos went back to his old agency and with a smart uniform and car of his own at his disposal, not to mention a handsomely written reference from Athos, was soon back at work transporting the great and good - or at least the appropriately wealthy - around the capital. 

Athos picked up work as a clerk at a local government office, and Porthos was never sure if this was the result of writing to Lady Anne for a reference of his own, or if he had other more suitable references from his previous life. Athos never really talked about his job much, and whilst he occasionally mentioned the people he worked with, he never showed any interest in socialising with them out of hours, preferring to spend his evenings indoors with a book and a glass of whisky. 

Porthos, in contrast, had hooked up with several of his old friends and spent many a happy night drinking and carousing in their company. Athos politely declined all invitations to such evenings, although never objected to Porthos going out alone. 

Neither did he complain when Porthos inevitably woke him up climbing into bed in the small hours, clumsy, drunk and amorous. Athos never refused his attentions at these times, letting Porthos do as he pleased with a quiet acquiescence.

Overall, and to Porthos' relief, Athos seemed reasonably happy with life. He would have occasional quiet spells, but they rarely lasted more than a day or so before he would return to his customary dry humour, and that mixture of patient exasperation with Porthos' wilder schemes that made Porthos adore him.

\--

It was an evening perhaps three months after they'd moved in together, and they were eating supper at the kitchen table, Athos facing the window. It was nearly dark outside although the curtains hadn't been drawn, the window cracked open to let out the cooking smells. They were talking casually of something and nothing when Athos suddenly froze, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

"Athos? What is it?" Porthos asked, confused. He looked over his shoulder, but could see nothing that might have caused such a startled reaction. When he looked back Athos was on his feet, and ignoring Porthos' entreaties to tell him what was wrong had flung open the door and dashed out into the night.

Porthos found him standing in the deserted street, looking left and right with a bewildered expression.

"Athos?" Porthos approached him cautiously. "What's wrong, what did you see?"

Athos looked at him with bleak eyes, then seemed to slump. "Nothing. I saw nothing."

"You saw something," Porthos remarked, leading him gently back indoors. "Or you thought you did. What was it?"

"A face," Athos admitted reluctantly. "A face at the window."

"Whose?"

Athos just shook his head. "No one's. It doesn't matter." 

"Athos!"

Athos gave him a shaken look. "Do you believe in ghosts?" he breathed.

"What? No."

"Then perhaps I'm just going mad," said Athos miserably. 

Despite repeated pleas he refused to be drawn on who it was he thought he'd seen, and Porthos eventually chased him off to bed, deciding it was just exhaustion and overwork, a diagnosis which Athos accepted docilely.

To Porthos' relief in the morning Athos seemed much recovered, apologising for his strange outburst, and agreeing he must have just been over-tired. It being Saturday they went out together to buy groceries, and were returning laden with bags when Porthos noticed someone waiting outside their house.

"Who's that?" he murmured, and Athos looked up, following his gaze.

As they drew closer, Porthos could see it wasn't a man he recognised. As tall as Porthos, he was blond-haired and blue-eyed, with a faint scar across one cheek that added an appealing quirk to what might otherwise have been rather bland good looks.

Porthos glanced back at Athos to see if he recognised their visitor and saw with surprise that Athos had stopped stock still and was clutching the grocery bag so hard his fingers had gone through the brown paper.

"Athos?" Porthos murmured, alarmed and concerned by Athos' extreme reaction and wondering if this was someone who meant them harm.

Athos didn't look at him, couldn't tear his eyes away from the man standing before them, and Porthos didn't think he'd even heard. He was about to prompt him again when Athos finally spoke, the single name falling from his lips enough to freeze Porthos' entire world.

"Julien."

"Hello Athos." 

They stared at each other. Julien looked nervously hopeful, but Athos had gone chalk-white, as if he'd seen a ghost. Porthos supposed in some ways he had.

"You're dead." Athos sounded hoarse, disbelieving. Julien gave an awkward shrug that looked almost apologetic.

"As you can see, apparently not."

Athos swayed a little, and Porthos was genuinely worried he was about to faint. 

"I thought - I - you were - " Athos faltered, then seemed to realise he was making no sense and cleared his throat, glancing at Porthos for the first time, the blood now rising in his face in a sudden flush.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Julien asked with a smile and a nod in Porthos' direction, apparently feeling Athos' prolonged silence hadn't made things awkward enough. 

"This is - Porthos," Athos said faintly. "He's my - " he faltered.

"Friend." Porthos held out his hand. "Porthos du Vallon."

Julien looked relieved that someone at least was prepared to observe the social niceties, and shook it firmly.

"Pleased to meet you. Julien Jermyn."

"German?"

Julien gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Oh God please don't, it was bad enough during the war. It's spelt with a J. My friends call me JJ."

"Athos doesn't." Porthos wasn't sure why he said it, but Julien just smiled.

"Athos is different." The look he gave Athos then was soft and knowing and made Porthos want to scream. 

"Look, I don't want to invite myself in, but is there any chance we could do this inside?" Julien asked. "No need to create a spectacle for the neighbours, eh?"

Blankly, Athos unlocked the door and lead them inside, depositing his half-shredded bag on the table and then standing next to it as if he didn't know what to do.

"You were dead," he repeated helplessly. "I looked for you. I _did_." He sounded pleading, as if needing to be believed. "What happened? Where have you _been_ all this time?"

"Long story." Julien sighed, then gave a short laugh. "Or maybe not. After that business with the bridge I woke up in a field hospital with no clue who I was. No identification on me, see?" he added ruefully. 

"The doctors tried to find out who I belonged to, but obviously none of the nearby regiments were missing anyone of my description. So I just - pootled on for the rest of the war, being useful where I could. Gradually, bits and pieces started to come back to me." Julien hesitated. "Do you know, I remembered your name before my own?"

Athos took a breath that was half-way to a sob, and Porthos clenched his fists. He was turned away from them putting the groceries away, trying to give Athos a little privacy without actually leaving the room. 

Porthos was in an agony of indecision, not knowing what to do for the best. He didn't want to interfere, but every second that passed and Athos said nothing, his heart grew heavier.

Perhaps feeling the awkward atmosphere just as keenly, Julien ploughed on to break the silence.

"I looked for you," he said to Athos. "Once I was myself again. I found out you'd survived, and I came looking, but it seemed like you'd dropped off the face of the earth."

"I was working out in the home counties," Athos said vaguely. "For a few years." He suddenly looked stricken, and finally looked round at Porthos with wide and horrified eyes. "Oh God," he breathed. "What have I done?"

All Porthos could do was look back at him helplessly. They both knew the driving factor in Athos doing what he'd done had been revenge for Julien's death.

"I'd drop by here every few months," Julien continued. "Just on the off chance you might have come home."

"That _was_ you I saw last night," Athos said, with dawning realisation. "I thought I was going mad."

"Yes, sorry." Julien gave him a sheepish smile. "I shouldn't have run off, but suddenly seeing you again - it was all too much." He fidgeted, throwing a frustrated glance at Porthos. "Look, Athos, do you think we might talk - you know. In private?"

Athos opened his mouth and then closed it again, clearly not knowing what to say for the best. Porthos took pity on him. 

"I'll let you two catch up," he said quietly. He walked to the door, passing in front of Athos and touching his arm briefly as he did so. "I love you," he breathed, too quietly for Julien to catch but knowing that Athos had heard him, or at least read his lips.

Porthos stumbled out of the front door, eyes pricking with tears he was determined not to shed. Athos might still choose him, he told himself, although there was a hollow feeling inside that was asking why he ever would. Julien felt like everything Porthos wasn't, not to mention he'd been Athos' first and enduring love. He should be glad they'd been reunited, Porthos told himself, while his stomach churned with misery.

Out in the porch, Porthos hesitated. If Athos was going to leave him he had to know. He had to hear it for himself. Porthos realised that if he knew already, he could at least spare Athos the pain of having to tell him. 

Hating himself for doing it, he stayed leaning back against the wall, next to the door that he hadn't quite shut behind him. 

\--

"He seems nice." Julien nodded vaguely in the direction Porthos had gone. "And he, er - seems to have heard of me?" he said hopefully.

Athos nodded silently. 

Julien sighed. "Look, I realise this must have come as a shock to you and all that, but - I was rather hoping you might be at least a little pleased to see me?"

"I am. Of course I am." A shudder ran through Athos' body, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to hold himself together. "I just - I believed you were dead, for so long. It's a lot to take in."

Julien moved closer, venturing a smile. "I have to confess, I'd pictured our reunion a little more - demonstrative," he murmured. "Don't I even get a kiss?"

Athos flinched. "I- " He swallowed, started again. "There's something you should know. Porthos is my lover."

"Ah." Julien pursed his lips and nodded. "I had wondered. Seeing you together last night - I wasn't eavesdropping, I promise. But I did seem to recall this place only had one bed."

"I'm sorry." Athos clenched his fingers convulsively in the sleeves of his jacket.

"Oh, no need to be sorry. You thought I was dead, after all." Julien gave a slightly brittle laugh. "Anyway, I'm sure he'll understand."

"Yes. Sorry, what?" Athos frowned, realising he hadn't followed Julien's train of thought.

"He knows who I am? What we were to each other?" Julien clarified, and Athos nodded again. "So he must realise that I have the prior claim?"

"I'm not a piece of meat," Athos objected, and Julien held up a hand in apology.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it that way, you know that. I just meant - I love you Athos. I've waited so long for this moment, to see you again. For us to be together." He moved in, clearly going for a kiss, but Athos laid a restraining hand on his chest and Julien drew back again with a sigh.

"Yes, of course, you're right, you should tell him first. It's only fair. You always were too noble for your own good."

Athos frowned. "I'm not telling him anything," he said slowly. 

"Really? Might be a little crowded with three of us in the bed," Julien laughed. "Although having said that who knows? Might be interesting. I've never been with a - "

"Julien!" 

Julien threw his hands up in frustration. "What? Athos you're being impossible. Get the man back in here, tell him it's over. Pay him off if you have to, just - let's start again, can't we?"

"You don't understand. I love him," Athos said quietly, feeling like his voice was coming from a long way off.

"No, Athos, you love me." Julien put his hands on Athos' shoulders and stared into his face. "You told me that, remember? Because I do. It's the only thing that's kept me going these last few years, the thought of finding you again. You told me you loved me Athos, you told me it was forever. Were you lying?"

It was a moment before Athos could speak. "No," he said, in a voice that cracked. "I wasn't lying. I did love you. More than anything. But then you died - or at least I thought you did. I mourned you, Julien. For a long time I didn't want to live without you. I did - certain things, that I shouldn't have, because of it. I was ready to die, to be with you again." Athos pulled away from Julien's grasp, wiping eyes that were suddenly blurry.

"But then I met Porthos," Athos continued with an effort. "And he made me want to live after all. The only reason I am here, now, is because of him. He's my reason for being. You're right, I do still love you. But I'm not _in_ love with you. Not any more. It's been too long, and I've grieved for you, and though I never thought I could, I moved on."

Athos hung his head. "I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"No. I won't let you do this. Athos, think about what you're saying. What can he offer you that I can't? Precious little, I'd guess. Where did you even dig him up from?"

"I'm not sure how you think being rude about him's going to sway me," Athos said coldly, then rubbed his face tiredly. "It's been years Julien. You can't just walk back into my life and expect everything to be the same. Things change. _I've_ changed."

"I don't believe you're doing this!" Julien's voice rose with a thread of anger in it, and outside Porthos tensed. Part of him wanted to rush in to Athos' defence, but that would be to let on he'd been spying, not to mention the fact Athos was in any case perfectly capable of defending himself.

"Can't we just be friends?" Athos pleaded. "I really am glad you're alive, you have no idea. It's like a miracle, it's everything I prayed for. But what you're asking me to do - I can't, Julien. And if you really cared for my happiness you'd try and understand that." 

"Friends?" Julien choked out the word, incredulous. "You expect me to _settle_ , for that? Listen to me you little - " he reached out and grasped the lapel of Athos' jacket, dragging him roughly closer. Athos made no move to pull away, but Porthos must have jerked in instinctive reaction, because he caught the door handle with his wrist and it swung open to reveal him standing there.

Julien stepped back from Athos with a harsh laugh. "Oh, this is your precious lover? A man who listens at keyholes? This is who you'd pick over me?"

Figuring that the game was up Porthos walked back into the room, ignoring Julien and nodding to Athos. "You alright?"

Athos nodded back tightly. Porthos didn't think he'd misread the spark of relief in Athos' eyes when he'd realised Porthos had been listening after all, but Athos had quickly closed down into complete blankness.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye." Julien said bitterly, and Athos looked anguished again.

"Don't go. Not like this."

"What do you expect from me Athos, to stay and watch?" Julien asked resentfully. He turned suddenly to Porthos, who jumped. "I'd take note of this, if I were you. Whatever declarations he's made to you, chances are he once made them to me. I imagine one day he'll ditch you as well, when the next appealing prospect comes along. Tell you what Porthos, when that happens, look me up. We can have a drink together." He looked bitterly over at Athos. "And curse his name."

When Julien had walked out, there was a long moment of silence. Finally Porthos couldn't bear it any longer and reached out, but Athos stepped back.

"Don't. Don't touch me." He sounded on the verge of tears, and before Porthos could think of anything remotely suitable to say, Athos had run out of the door as well.

Slowly, Porthos sank into a chair with his head in his hands. Overhearing Athos' defence of him and his protestations of love had left Porthos full of a wild hope where there'd been only deepening despair, but now he didn't know if everything was broken after all. He could only assume that Athos had run after Julien, but to what end he didn't know. All he could do was sit and wait. And hope.

\--

Porthos was still sitting there when the dawn crept in the window the next morning. He'd barely noticed the passing of the hours, moving from his chair only to brew endless pots of tea, or to visit the lavatory. He'd told himself, over and over, that Athos would come back. It was the only thing he had left to hold on to.

It was shortly after six am when the front door finally creaked open. Porthos looked up, hardly daring to believe his eyes as he beheld Athos standing in the doorway, red-eyed and hesitant, as if unsure of his welcome.

"Athos." Porthos didn't remember getting to his feet but somehow Athos was in his arms and he was holding on like he'd never let go.

"I was worried sick. Where have you been?" As soon as the words were out, Porthos wanted to take them back. "No, no it doesn't matter where you've been, you don't have to tell me. You're home, that's all that matters. You are home, right?" Porthos pulled back and looked at him, suddenly afraid that Athos might only have come back to collect his things, or to ask him to leave.

Athos nodded, but he was frowning. "You think I've been with Julien," he said slowly. "Is that what you're saying? What, one last fuck for old times sake? Is that what you think of me?"

"No. No, I - " Porthos groaned with frustration. "You ran out after him, what was I supposed to think?" He hesitated. "Were you? With him?"

Athos shook his head. "No. I don't know where he is. I didn't look."

"Then where have you been?" Porthos pleaded.

"Drinking." Athos looked sheepish. "I got - very drunk. Very. I couldn't come home, I didn't want you to see me like that."

Porthos groaned again, quietly. "You could have," he said softly.

Athos half-smiled. "I might have said things. Things I didn't mean. It was best I stayed away." He sighed. "I slept on a park bench. Cleaned up in one of the public conveniences as soon as they were unlocked this morning." His smile widened slightly. "Nearly got arrested for soliciting." 

Porthos gave a bark of laughter. "You idiot." He pulled Athos back into his arms and they held each other tightly.

"I'm sorry," Athos whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Did you hear us?" Athos asked cautiously. "All of it, I mean?"

Porthos nodded. "I know I shouldn't have listened, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know if I was going to lose you."

"Never." Athos shook his head convulsively. "Look, what he said, at the end. About me leaving you - "

"Shh." Porthos stopped him with gentle fingers across Athos' lips. "I know you'll never leave me. And you know what, even if you ever do, it'll all have been worth it, for this time together. Whatever happens, I'll always want you to be happy."

There were tears in Athos' eyes now, but Porthos kissed him and he smiled.

"Come on you. Let's go to bed," Porthos said firmly, taking his hand. "I've been up all night, and you've got what smells like an entire wine cellar to sleep off."

Athos followed him up the stairs without objection, and sank into his arms with a quiet sigh of relief. They lay there quietly, Porthos stroking Athos' hair and occasionally nuzzling kisses into his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Porthos murmured after a while, when it became apparent neither of them were going to fall asleep.

"You're sorry? What for?" Athos looked up at him in surprise, and Porthos kissed him on the nose.

"You must be hurting right now." 

Athos looked away in shame, but Porthos cupped his face and turned him back to look at him. "It's okay," he whispered. "You don't have to pretend you're not."

"It feels disloyal," Athos admitted under his breath. Porthos shook his head.

"You loved him. You still love him. I understand that." He chewed his lower lip uncertainly. "You're sure you wouldn't rather be - ?"

This time it was Athos who stopped him with a kiss. "I love you," he said. "I don't want to be with anyone else."

Porthos nodded, relieved. "It's still okay to be sad about it" he told Athos, settling him more comfortably in his arms. "You've just lost him all over again. It must be painful."

Athos sighed. "It's more the knowledge that I've hurt him," he confessed. "I never wanted that." He was silent for a moment, before continuing. "We shared so much. And there were so many things I wished I'd said to him, and thought I'd never have the chance. And now - now I still can't."

"Maybe he'll come round," Porthos said comfortingly. "When the hurt and the anger's worn off. If he really cares about you, he won't just walk out of your life."

"Do you think so?" Athos looked up at him. "Would you mind?" he asked cautiously. "If he and I were friends?"

"No, course not." Porthos hugged him close. "I trust you Athos," he murmured. "And I love you. And I want you to be happy."

Athos kissed him then, passionately, and Porthos half-laughed as Athos climbed on top of him, still kissing. 

"Thought you were tired?"

Athos shook his head. "I've been asleep for too long. Maybe talking to Julien made me realise some truths I'd never fully put into words before. And what you said, about making the most of our future, you were right." Athos slid his hands under the hem of Porthos' vest, fingers teasing the line of hair that lead down his belly. 

"That future?" Athos leaned forwards, and kissed him on the lips. "It starts here."

\--


End file.
